


Sickly Haze

by Hisa_Ai



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Comfort, Fluff, Illness, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-05
Updated: 2014-09-05
Packaged: 2018-02-16 05:03:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2256840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hisa_Ai/pseuds/Hisa_Ai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At the back of his sickly, muddled mind, he felt a tugging that this wasn't something that should have been happening; the knights didn't <em>usually</em> make a habit of climbing into bed with him, after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sickly Haze

* * *

 

  
*

  
Merlin had  _warned_  Arthur before their little outing, had told him he was coming down with something and should be back home before nightfall to get some herbs from Gaius for it. He had  _told_  him.

  
But, caught out in the middle of the forest as the night settled in around the pair of them and the knights… Merlin wasn't about to say "I told you so." Not when his teeth were chattering ,and he was sure his lips were blue. He was hot to the touch, the world was spinning, and he felt  _miserable._

  
With a groan, he tugged his jacket around himself and curled into himself on his sleeping roll. If he could just make it through the night in once piece, he could say "I told you so" when they returned to Camelot…

  
*

  
"We should have gotten him back to Gaius before the sun went down." Lancelot said, looking with worry to Merlin's shivering form near the fire.

  
Arthur gritted his teeth and nodded at the truth behind his words, choosing to ignore the almost  _scolding_  look in his knight's eyes, because, well, he was right to turn that look on Arthur in that moment.  _Of course_  they should have, _of course_  Arthur should have listened to Merlin when he'd told him he needed to be home before nightfall,  _of course_  Arthur should have believed him when he said he was coming down with something,  _of course_  Arthur should have made Merlin's well-being his first priority.

  
But… it was too late now. Merlin was in no condition to travel, and he was the only one among them with the knowledge to help himself, though he was in no condition to do  _that_  now either.

  
Looking between Merlin and the knights, Arthur gave them a small, authoritative nod. "It's too late now. We'll just have to do our best to help him until morning. Somebody get him another blanket."

  
*

  
He was slipping in and out of consciousness, swimming in a hot flash and an icy wind, dizzy thoughts and thoughtless nausea. He was aware of blankets and capes being wrapped around him, and then, being coaxed, against his will, into a sitting position to get some water into him.

  
With half-lidded eyes, he let out a strangled sort of sound, feeling miserable and shivering as a water pouch was held to his lips for a long moment until he shook it away, water dribbling down his chin for a moment until it was promptly wiped up. He leaned slightly into the hand that wiped up the water, seeking the warmth as his eyes slid shut once again, the dizziness much too much for him to withstand any longer.

  
*

  
"He's gotten worse." Gwaine said, tucking Merlin's limp body back into his bedroll a moment after he all but fell asleep against the knight. "His fever is getting worse—the blankets aren't going to be enough to keep him warm through-out the night."

  
The knights all looked to Arthur, then, wondering what he would do, what he would  _want_  to do in this situation. It was obvious somebody would need to keep him warm with their own body heat—and every one of them would be  _more_  than willing, but Arthur… Well, his mind was already more than made up on the subject—it was  _his_  fault, after all, that they were out here, that Merlin was shivering on the forest floor and not back home in Camelot in his own bed...

  
"I'll take care of him when we go to sleep."

  
*

  
Merlin slipped back into the waking world when his blankets were moved, when the bedroll shifted ever so slightly, sleep barely a comfort when it was filled with an uneasy sort of feeling that he should have been able to shake off with the vast nothingness of his dreamless slumber. He made a face to himself but couldn't be bothered to check what had caused the upset, eyes determined to stay shut, body aching and protesting at the prospect of cracking his eyes even just a touch.

  
Until he felt a chest press against his back, a set of arms wrap around him and hold him tight, close, their proximity, their warmth, making Merlin sigh involuntarily, press against them more.

  
At the back of his sickly, muddled mind, he felt a tugging that this wasn't something that should have been happening; the knights didn't  _usually_ make a habit of climbing into bed with him, after all.

  
Against himself, and everything in him that told him to do otherwise, Merlin turned around, his own chest pressing against whomever was laying next to him, and tilted his head up, trying to see who it was, willing his eyes to crack open to see against the darkness that lay between them to still his pulsing, wondering thoughts.

  
"Sssh, it's only me." They said, the voice instantly recognizable to Merlin even in such a miserable state.

  
"Arthur?" Merlin asked, groggy, trying to understand, trying to grasp what was going on. But why was Arthur—

  
"Your fever is getting too high, we need to keep you warm until we get you home." Arthur explained, his voice soft and reassuring.

  
"But—"

  
"Just sleep, Merlin." He commanded, though it sounded, to Merlin's ears, more gentle than commanding, more a plea than an order.

  
Merlin sighed again and let his head come to rest against Arthur's chest then, much too tired, too…  _sick,_  to argue, his body sighing against Arthur's as his eyes fell shut and his thoughts fell silent, content and placated as they could be in the moment, when Arthur's arms came to wrap around him and hold him closer...

  
And, if Merlin was even sure of anything through his sickly haze, he might have said, later on, that Arthur had chastely kissed his forehead just as he was drifting off, muttered something or another that Merlin couldn't quite make out, but that did wonders, regardless, to lull him further into an easier sort of sleep that he was almost sorry to wake up from the following morning.

 

*  
  


* * *

 


End file.
